


Need

by galaxystiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Destiel Smut Bingo 2018, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/pseuds/galaxystiel
Summary: Dean is away on a hunt and Castiel takes the time to look around his bedroom. PWP.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo 2018, filling the prompt, "I missed you."

Castiel closed the door to Dean’s bedroom behind him with a soft exhale. The atmosphere changed immediately, and he felt himself relax in a way he hadn’t all week. This was like coming home. He recognised even the minute details of Dean’s room without having to look too closely. The array of guns on the wall, the scent of leather and gunpowder and a little bit of motor oil that usually lingered on his clothes from when he worked on the Impala. There was also a clean smell, a freshness that betrayed exactly how much Dean liked his space to be clean.

He sat on the mattress gently, aware that this was Dean’s living space, not his own. Despite their change in relationship status over the last few months, they still kept separate bedrooms for when they wanted to be alone. This room was solely Dean’s, although Castiel found that they both slept here together most of the time. His hands splayed across the blankets, appreciating the softness of the material. It felt nice under his hands. He knew from experience it felt nice against his skin too, when he was splayed out, thighs parted, and fingers curling around the blankets for purchase–

Castiel flushed and got to his feet. Was it warm in here? It was definitely warm in here. Maybe he’d left the heat on. He knew he hadn’t, but was trying not to get too caught up in memories. Castiel pulled off his tie, opening a few of the buttons on his shirt and laying his jacket across the chair neatly. Dean and Sam were on their way back from hunting down a chimaera in Missouri, so it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Dean would want him to sleep here tonight. They’d been parted for a few days and Dean was riding the high from a successful hunt. No doubt they’d end up right back in here shortly after he returned.

With that logic, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to at least save some time. Castiel slipped off his shoes and, as an afterthought, his socks, balling up the black cotton and shoving them into his shoes. He’d lost track of the amount of times his socks had been lost to the depths of Dean’s room and he’d had to hunt them down the next morning. Better to put them away safely now. It was just practical.

Sitting back on the bed, Castiel leaned back against one of the pillows and brought his bare feet up onto the covers, wiggling his toes as he made himself comfortable. Even though this was Dean’s room, he could still see the telltale signs of his own influence on the space. Aside from the clothes he had just removed, he could see some of his more casual clothes hanging in Dean’s closet. His FBI suit for when his own wasn’t smart enough. His book on the dresser, next to Dean’s Vonnegut novel.

Castiel looked closer and couldn’t hide his smile. Dean was reading Cat’s Cradle again. No matter how many books he went through, he always went back to Cat’s Cradle. The book was almost completely destroyed, dog-eared pages, cracked spine and faded cover from how often it had been read from cover-to-cover. Castiel turned his gaze to the desk across the room and softened. There, beside the picture of Mary and Dean as a child, were a couple of new additions. Pictures of Bobby and the boys when they were young. A picture of Dean and Sam taken not that long ago, and then the most recent picture, of Dean and Castiel.

They were leaning towards each other, clearly deep in conversation about something. Castiel couldn’t remember it being taken, or where they were in the picture, but they were holding each other’s gaze intently. It was a nice picture, but the warmth that was spreading from Castiel’s heart all the way to his fingertips was from what it represented. That Dean considered him important enough to lay his picture beside that of Mary and Sam. A smile tugged at the corner of Castiel’s mouth and he looked down at his hands almost shyly.

Of course he was sure about his place in Dean’s life. It was just something entirely different to see proof of it.

He rose from the bed, bare feet padding against the hard, wooden floor as he explored Dean’s room. Normally he wouldn’t dream of being so invasive, of exploring Dean’s personal space, but he was intrigued now of his own influences. Peering into the closet, Castiel saw an inconspicuous looking box at the back. He reached out and picked it up, opening the lid. Immediately blanching, Castiel replaced the lid and pushed the box back where it had come from. So that was where Dean’s collection of _Busty Asian Beauties_ had gone.

Castiel paused and looked down at his fingers. A beat. He raised his fingers to his lips and blew on them, watching the dust fly from his digits and drift to the floor. The box had clearly been untouched for some time, then. Still, Castiel decided he wouldn’t snoop any further and settled himself back on the bed. The pillows still smelled like Dean. He leaned in and inhaled deeply. It smelled like his soul as well as his body. Castiel knew Dean would think he was nuts if he explained how much he liked the scent of Dean’s soul, but it was true. It smelled like something that reminded Castiel of the moments after his creation. Maybe a little of Heaven. It smelled pure.

Castiel returned his nose to the pillow and inhaled once more. There was the undercurrent of sex beneath Dean’s scent. Sweat, semen, an overall hint of musk. Dean had left in quite a hurry that day, clearly he hadn’t had time to focus on laundry before they’d left. Castiel closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time they’d had sex.

 _Dean’s hand gripped tightly onto Castiel’s hair, fingers knotted in the locks as he used that as the leverage he needed to drive his hips forward frantically and without finesse_ –

His eyes flew open wide as he let out an audible gasp, his slacks tighter than they had been a few seconds ago. Now he remembered, and he was ashamed that he’d almost forgotten. That had been one of the most amazing experiences of Castiel’s life, and he’d experienced millennia. Idly, Castiel palmed at his crotch, remembering the way Dean had shoved him face-first into the mattress, claiming every part of his body.

He hissed as he hardened fully under his own palm, the stimulation not enough through the material of his pants and boxers. Castiel bit his lip, guiltily. He shouldn’t, not here. This was Dean’s space.

The faint buzzing of his phone was almost a welcome relief from his guilt, although he flinched when he saw Dean’s name on the display. He couldn’t possibly know what Castiel was contemplating, but the coincidental timing was disturbing to say the least.

“Dean,” Castiel cleared his throat when his words came out even more gravelly than usual. He didn’t want to give anything away.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice was warm and Castiel’s eyes crinkled at the sound. “We’re on our way back, you at the Bunker?”

“Yes, I’m here. I’m, uh, I’m actually in your room right now,” Castiel confessed, biting down on his lip when he realised what he’d said.

Dean’s voice came back casual, but Castiel knew him well enough to know that Dean was inherently curious. “You are? What are you doing there?”

“I’m sitting on your bed. It- it smells like you. It smells like _us_ ,” Castiel wasn’t sure why he was spilling all of this, but the words were coming unprompted. “I missed you.”

There was a small delay before Dean replied, but his voice was lower, gruffer. “Are you remembering the last time we were there, Cas? About how good it was? How hard I fucked you?”

Castiel’s breath hitched and he let out a soft whine, palming at his crotch again. “Dean–”

“We’re at a gas station about half a mile out. Don’t come until I get there.”

The line went dead and Castiel’s chest heaved like he’d ran a marathon. He discarded his phone across the room as he unbuckled his belt and freed himself from his pants, kicking them down to below his knees. The lube was out of reach, stashed in the dresser and there was no way Castiel was struggling over to it. He thought about starting slow, of teasing himself to the point where it was almost too much, fingers dancing over his thighs. Half a mile wasn’t far away, Dean would be here before he knew it. Another time.

He spat in his palm and wrapped a hand around himself steadily, despite his trembling thighs. His cock pulsed in his hand, hot and heavy. A soft sound of want escaped him as he tightened his grip just a little and began rocking up into his hand. Castiel wasn’t trying to get himself off, Dean had told him not to come yet. This was just building the anticipation.

He stroked himself smoothly, twisting his hand on the downwards pull. His hips moved in a regular motion, pushing himself up into his hand with choked exhales of pleasure. Heat ignited in his stomach, his whole body felt aflame, a flush extending from his cheeks all the way to his groin. Castiel’s eyes slowly closed as he gave himself over to the shocks of pleasure, his body trembling with need as he rocked upwards into his fist. His thumb swiped over the head, smearing the drops of precome beginning to leak.

It wasn’t enough, he’d been spoiled. The touch of his own hand was one of human things that had thrilled him at first, but after his body had followed his heart and been wholly possessed by Dean, it simply wasn’t enough anymore. He groaned, a mixture of pleasure and distress as he knew without a doubt he would never be able to come like this. He needed more, he needed–

“Dean,” he moaned as the bedroom door opened, his eyes flying open. He was there, alone, Castiel could sense whenever Dean was nearby. Sam wasn’t in the bunker, no doubt Dean had made an excuse to send him off for a while. Maybe he made his own excuses, Castiel didn’t care. He parted his thighs wider, waiting for Dean to approach him.

Dean closed the door behind him, stepping into the room and not taking his eyes off Castiel’s body. His tongue swept as his lower lip and Castiel moaned wantonly, feeling downright _filthy_. He was here, half-naked and dishevelled, stroking himself while Dean watched him, fully clothed. His cock jerked in his hand, and he choked out a cry, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Don’t stop,” Dean told him firmly, kicking off his boots and shedding a layer of flannel, agonisingly slow. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, Cas.”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply but only a sound of longing came out. He wanted Dean, he wanted to reach out and touch him, but he exercised restraint. “You,” he rasped, pausing to exhale, a shuddering breath. “Always you. How you touch me.”

Dean locked eyes with Castiel as he unbuckled his belt, but instead of approaching the bed, he settled down in the chair by the desk. Still, he never tore his eyes away from Castiel’s, even as he freed his own cock from his faded jeans. Castiel made a sound in the back of his throat and stopped his motions, grasping the base of his shaft as he felt his balls beginning to tighten. He wouldn’t come, not yet.

“How would I touch you?” Dean pressed, leaning back in the chair almost casually as he wrapped a hand around himself. “How do you imagine me touching you?”

Castiel’s cheeks flushed an even deeper red and he slowly relaxed his grip as he began to stroke his cock again. “I… you’d tease me. Play with my nipples. Bite my thighs. You wouldn’t touch my – my cock, not till the end. You’d use your fingers on me instead. You’d start slow, make sure I was nice and stretched and ready for you. You’d fuck me the way I like it, pulling my hair and marking me.”

Dean let out a shuddering breath and he began pumping his length faster, finesse forgotten in favour of his arousal at Castiel’s words. Castiel whimpered as he sped up to match Dean’s strokes, wishing he could reach out and touch him. But Dean hadn’t come closer, and that was obviously for a reason. Not that Castiel was complaining exactly, there was something hot about Dean being _right there_ , but not close enough.

“You like it when I’m rough with you, Cas?”

Castiel nodded, his free hand fisting into the soft covers as he felt heat begin to pool in his stomach, felt the telltale signs of his impending release as his balls tightened. “Dean, _please_.”

There must have been something in his voice that told Dean how close he was, because the next thing Castiel knew, Dean was right there. A warm hand wrapped around his own, guiding his strokes, while Dean’s lips met his. He licked into his mouth, nipping at Dean’s lower lip a little harder than intended. A muffled moan was lost into the kiss as he came, hot white ropes of come covering his stomach and sparks exploding behind his eyes. He stroked himself through it, his body going limp and relaxing back into the mattress.

Dean followed a few seconds later, adding to the mural on Castiel’s stomach from both of their come and Castiel looked up at him, sated and weary but sporting a very satisfied half-smirk. He shifted along, making room for Dean on the bed, and gratefully took it when Dean’s hand slid into his, squeezing lightly.

“Missed me that much, huh?”

Castiel laughed. “You know I did. I’m glad you’re home.”

Dean kissed him on the forehead tenderly. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> [MY TUMBLR](http://blueeyedangel.co.vu)


End file.
